


Personage

by KyeAbove



Series: amnesiac [1]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesiac Wally Franks, Gen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 01:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14250336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyeAbove/pseuds/KyeAbove
Summary: I call him Joey, but I don’t know why.Or, Wally is the most important person in the world.





	Personage

I don’t know where I came from, or why I’m here, or there's ever actually been anything else, but that’s just something I’ve accepted. It’s something you gotta do in a place like this. It’s not home, in the warmth of the word, but I’ve been here long enough to not feel out of place.

Where is _here?_ An endless place of wood and ink. I’ve noticed it’s my job to keep the place clean, and it’s a thankless chore.

The pipes are always bursting, and that angel lady is always commanding murders. I wonder if cleaning up bodies was listed in my job description, if I was ever officially hired.

Sometimes it’s not the angel lady leaving corpses. There’s a cult around here too. They’ve gone after me a few times, but the Man in the Mask often tells the others off. That I haven’t been ‘forsaken’. I don’t know what I did for such an honor. I only wish that they cleaned up their sacrifices and their circles themselves.

I may not know much, but I have figured out that I’m special around here. The creatures give me space, and the man with the projector as a head will light my way if I encounter him. The angel never touches me anymore, and her so called errand boy will try to talk with me, even though he clearly _can’t._

I don’t know if there’s a way to leave this place. What if this is all there is? There’s a nagging feeling at the back of my mind telling me to look further, discover more, _get outta here,_ but every time, I tell myself _what about the others?_ Would they miss me if I was gone?

What about the Man in the Mask, and the others, mutilated and combined with instruments they might have once played? They may try to sacrifice me sometimes, and don’t seem to know how to clean their own messes, but they aren’t bad, in a sense. Sometimes the Man in the Mask will grab me, pulling me into a hug and calling me Wally when no one else will. Other times, the cult will ask me to join their prayer circles, although I have no idea who we’d be praying to.

What about the Projectionist, who seems to know me better than I do some days? I remember one time, he presented me a book, and while I couldn’t recall ever reading it, I knew the words and the ending. This was just one of many hints. I’ve always wished the Projectionist could speak, but no matter how much fiddling he allows me to do, I can never get his speaker to work.

The angel wouldn’t care, but what about the errand boy? Most won’t go near him, and it's not just because of his connection to the angel. He’s often too focused on whatever task the angel has given him, but he’s never made a move to injure me, and if I follow him, he often tries to get me to help him, even though he knows what the angel would think of that.

The angel would love to injury me, tear me apart, and she’s said as much. But she knows what Joey would do to her if she did.  
  
Most call him ‘Bendy’ or the Ink Demon. I call him Joey, but I don’t know why. I think he'd miss me the most.

Joey is always there. Always watching. He’s never said it, _never said anything_ , but I know. I knew when he jumped out of nowhere, when the angel tried her usual game on me. Joey got me far away from her, stayed with me for sometime, and with even more frequently than before this incident, comes and makes sure I’m okay.

This was one of those times.  
  
Another pipe burst, and while I was cleaning up the spill, his spidery ink filled the room, and he turned the corner. As always, he was glad to see me. I don’t think he can do anything but smile, but I appreciate it all the same.  
  
“Hey, Joey!” I greeted, giving the demon a short wave. “Do we have some sort of actual repairman to deal with these pipes? This is the third spill I’ve had to clean in the last couple days.”

Joey shuddered, and then snuffed.

“Did we ever have a guy for that?” I asked, interest peaked. “I can’t recall.”

Joey shook his head, but I can’t say whether we did or he doesn’t want to say the truth. It’s not my place to question him further.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to deal. There’s only so many pipes that can burst, right?”

Joey nodded, coming to sit down beside the broken pipe. He kept his gaze on me, even though I know he doesn’t see that way.  

“So, what’s the news of the day, boss?”

Although Joey can’t speak, at least clearly, I’ve spent enough time around him to know what he means by certain sounds. The sound he made in response to my question, an almost icy hiss, told me all I needed to know.

“The angel. It’s always her causing you problems. If I could, I’d take her out with my broom just so we can all be done with her.”

From the sound he made, I assumed Joey was appreciative of my dedication to him, yet a moment later, he sort of curled into himself, and sighed. It was a sound I was sure I knew the meaning of.

“That’s about the errand boy.”

Joey’s always been hung up about him. It’s on my endless list of things I don’t know the reason for. Joey often makes grabs for that errand boy, but has never been successful in getting him away from the angel.

I placed my mop against the wall, as this was more important than any ink. I had all the time in the world to clean that up. Joey needed me then. I sat down beside him, and while leaning against him was always odd, it was as comforting for me as it seemed to be for him. I wouldn’t do more than this, at least not then, but it helped.

“Who was the errand boy, before? If there is a before.” Sometimes I swear there is. Other days I’m really not sure. “A friend?”

Joey nodded at this, staring down at his hands, before glancing back at Wally.

“I bet one day we can get him back from the angel. She doesn’t deserve him.”

Joey shook his head at this, probably meaning _no, she doesn’t. Never._

“Till then, we just gotta smile, and hope for the best. Misery isn’t good on you, Joey.”

I gave him my best grin to show him I really meant it, whether he believed it or not. I may not know why I call him Joey, or how I trusted him at all when everyone else here fears and hates him, but whatever and whoever Joey is, he’s my friend.

I don’t need to know any more than that.


End file.
